Sly's Surrender
By R. Renee Vickers

Jake had been waiting on his barstool for an hour already and had started to lose patience with his date. Oh, he knew she’d come eventually, she always did. Even with knowing Sly’s usual M.O., he never failed to show up on time, because he knew the one time he decided to be late would be the one time she’d be on time. He sighed and checked his watch again. How much longer would he have to wait?
He called Tony over with a hasty jerk of his hand. The bartender rolled his eyes and shook his head. Tony was a man in his mid-fifties with gray hair—what was left of it. He wore a white dress shirt under a black vest. The only thing he was missing was the black armband reminiscent of the style at the turn of the twentieth century. Sly told him once that Tony had been tending bar there for thirty years, which could explain his gruff attitude. Jake never had any problems with the old man but thought he had a funny way of treating paying customers. After a minute or two, Tony begrudgingly set a fresh glass of soda on a clean little napkin and sternly eyed his teetotaler.
“Hope she’s worth it, boy,” he said with a grunt and a little too much emphasis on boy, as far as Jake was concerned. Jake watched the back of the bartender’s shiny head as he turned to tend to his more lucrative patrons.
He sighed again and glanced at the door. Still no Sly. Yeah, she was worth it, but it didn’t mean he had to enjoy complying with all her demands. Abstaining from drink was one of them. He had to admit that her reasoning was sound; how could she be in control if he was drunk? And, of course, waiting for her late ass all the time was another.
The more Jake thought about her controlling nature, the more agitated he grew. Why the hell did he subject himself to this . . . this . . . her control? It’s not right that she makes me jump through all of these ridiculous hoops, he thought as he glanced at Tony, who, simultaneously, gave him another disgusted look and shook his head. Jake’s blood boiled. That’s it, Jake thought, I’m not going to take this anymore.
“Hey, sexy.” Sly’s smooth voice purred behind Jake, just as her fingertip caressed from his chin to his jaw in one long motion, ending up just behind his ear. Shivers ant-marched down Jake’s body. In that instant, Jake knew. This is why. All the anger, indignation, and embarrassment fled his mind as she wrapped an arm over his shoulder and down his chest. As her hot breath caressed his neck, her honeyed voice flooded his mind. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”
It took everything he had not to swallow, to show no outward reaction to what she was doing to him with these miniscule teases. This was just another game to her. She’d make him wait until he’d be ready to walk out, until he was so mad he couldn’t stand it, and then she’d show up, making him switch gears. Just like that. He shot a quick glance at Tony, who watched this dance out of the corner of his eyes, pretending like he was too busy toweling off a pristine glass to notice.
When Sly’s tongue flicked Jake’s thick, silver-hoop earring, he lost what small shred of control he had, albeit for a fraction of a second. He could feel her smile as her cheek rested against his neck. A prickling flash of anger growled in some dark recess of his mind.
She moved to half-lean, half-sit on the vacant stool next to him, and he had to strangle a threatening gasp. If he hadn’t, his body would have given away just how badly he wanted her. This was a high-stakes game, and so far, the house was winning.
Sly wore a tight black corset. Though no doubt made of the finest and most sturdy materials, the bone-rib garment threatened to break under the flood pressure of her ample bosom. It must have been a custom piece because it slithered down her slim waist with precision. No department wares could hope to cope with a curvy form such as hers. He noticed the striking color contrast as the thick, black material lay against her flawless, smooth, ivory-colored skin.
As his sight drew down, he soaked in just how short her layered black and burgundy diaphanous skirt was. She couldn’t sit down without flashing her all to the world. Jake gulped, carelessly abandoning any desire to restrain himself. Seeing his reaction, Sly barked a throaty laugh. He refused to look up until he saw his favorite pair of strappy, black, four-inch stiletto heels. When he came up for breath he found her glossy crimson-colored lips snaking a Cheshire pattern across her gleaming teeth and humor glistening in her hazel eyes. Oh, how she loves this game.
“You’re late as usual, Sly.” Jake grumbled and returned his attention to the uninteresting drink before him, playing up to the shadow of anger he felt just moments ago.
Sly chortled, “Now, now. . . .” and moved up until her breasts brushed Jake’s shoulder. She whispered in a barely audible tone, her hot breath gracing the fine hairs that lined Jake’s ear, “Are you in a hurry tonight?”
Jake’s heart paused for a beat while his brain worked furiously to come up with a proper retort. His mouth went dry as images flooded his memory of her riding him, and the scents and sensations of her climax.
“Uh, no.” He squeaked through a constricted voice box. Dammit, he scolded his body for once again betraying him. But his frustration at losing this game was dashed away as firm pressure embraced his groin. Her hot hand begged for attention. His cock gave a happy twitch in response.
“Good.” She replied in an equally soft, dulcet tone as she massaged him. Heat rose in his face, and he couldn’t remember why he had been angry in the first place. Had she been late? Time didn’t seem to matter much anymore.